Tam is miserably sick. Her chills, aches and sinus congestion paint a pretty clear picture; it's either a terribly bad cold, a middlin' bout of the flu, or, considering researchers have been playing with it in labs only recently, a touch of the ol' Yersinia pestis.
Whatever it is, the treatment is still what it always was (or should have been): plenty of rest, sufficient nutrition and the tincture of time. So I made us a good breakfast and I believe she's planning to return to Slumberland once I'm off to work.
Roseholme being as small as it is and my employer having yet again dragged their feet on flu shots (we nearly always get 'em after the year's first wave and I rarely remember to get one on my own*), my turn is nearly inevitable. With any luck, she'll be feeling better by then.
* Mind you, my insurance would even pick up the tab if I got the shot elsewhere. So, class, whose fault izzit I didn't already? Duh.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
2 months ago